Winter Morning Memories
by karisome
Summary: Rukia contemplates Renji, the ties that break, and the ties that bind.


Winter Morning Memories

By: karisome

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It smelled like the coming of snow.

She inhaled, almost yawning but not quite, as the chill drove her deeper under the covers. The icy skin of her face became all the more noticeable in contrast, and she shivered in reaction.

Warm and cold. Such a nostalgic sensation.

Hanging between full awareness and the clinging vestiges of sleep, her still-dreaming mind supplied a corresponding memory.

Frosty winter nights and huddled bodies. An imperfectly warm tangle of bony limbs and sharp joints against the frigid draft. Waking up to four sets of steady breath around her own.

She woke to an empty room and the fading memory of mornings long gone. It took her a second or two to register the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, and a few more to remember the reason.

It wasn't a dream after all.

Briefly she recalled the events of the previous day – her arrival at the estate, the whispers and measuring glances of the servants, the curt indifference of Byakuya-aniki, and the overall awkwardness of the situation as she stood hesitantly with her belongings in the entranceway, eyes wide and staring at the sprawling manor like some unmannered street rat.

She closed her eyes and felt a mirthless smirk curl the corners of her mouth.

You can take the girl out of Rukongai, but you can't take Rukongai out of the girl.

Reluctantly, she left the warmth of her blankets and slid the shoji open. A gust of freezing wind swept in from the courtyard, causing her to shiver and wrap her arms around herself even as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The frigid air rushed into her lungs, burning an icy trail along the way that was painfully sharp and clear and entirely refreshing. She tasted icicles shot through with the faintest hint of woodsmoke on the exhale that left her breathless. The coming…

…of snow, Renji had told her that first winter she spent with his gang. She had caught him sniffing the air and thrown an insult that she vaguely remembered as having something to do with dogs, and he had shot her a withering glare before grabbing her shoulders and positioning her struggling and sputtering form in the path of a very strong, very _cold_ wind before telling her to shut the hell _up_ and _breathe_. She had grumbled but obeyed, and when he had grinned smugly at the look of wonder on her face she'd smiled at him, all sugar and honey, and called him a freak. That night, as the snow came down in blinding sheets of white, the five of them had snuck into a creaking, abandoned shack that kept the wetness out but did little for the horrid temperature. They had eventually fallen asleep with bodies pressed close together, arms and legs thrown over and tucked under until freezing to death wasn't that much of an issue anymore.

Ten winters passed like that, some better and some worse than that first night, and she gradually got over the discomfort of having to rely on others for survival, and being someone others relied _on_ in return. And in the end, they were nothing but a ragged bunch of street punks that had unexpectedly found the family they'd all been searching for, needing and helping each other and sharing little things like laughs and pranks and body heat like they were all that mattered.

Then the eleventh winter came, harsher and crueler than all the rest and suddenly what they had wasn't enough. Spring found her and Renji on a cliff, looking towards Seireitei in the distance because there was nothing left to keep them back.

_Let's become Shinigami._

And so, three friends (brothers?) became three wooden poles on three mounds of dirt, and Renji became…

She hugged herself tighter as the icy air bit through her nemaki, shivering in the presence of the heavy, gray chill and everything gone wrong.

_A wide, wild grin of pride when he tested into the top class. A nonchalant wave as he walked off (no looking back) with the rest of Group 1 to his first Soul Burial practice. And just a few days ago…_

"_Isn't that great?!"_

_A loud, boisterous laugh…_

"_Now I'm just dead jealous!!"_

_A huge, enthusiastic smile. A hand (weight so familiar) on her shoulder. A blessing for her departure._

When I get back, I'll have a huge lead over you, he had said. I'm leaving you behind, she had heard.

_A fading back, moving further and further from her reach. _

_A desperate retaliation that he never heard._

"_You fool!! I'll be the one with a huge…lead…"_

She looked over the expanse of the courtyard with the meticulous landscaping and the elegant design, surrounded by an engawa in front of doors and doors and _doors_, all leading to rooms in the enormous building. And one of those rooms (with a futon and thick blankets and tatami and shoji and everything) was hers, just as a position in the 13th division was hers.

She waited for the satisfaction that did not come

_You fool._

_

* * *

_

When the servant entered with breakfast, the room was freezing and the newest Kuchiki was found shivering in front of the open shoji. The breakfast tray was quietly set down next to the futon without a comment on either.

The girl didn't move from the doorway.

"Kuchiki-sama?"

It took a moment before dark eyes against pale, pale skin turned away from the courtyard. "Yes?"

"Is anything wrong?"

A stiff smile. "No. I'm fine, thank you. Just…a little cold."

Outside, it had begun to snow.


End file.
